


Dark Quarantine

by Nearfisc



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Amputation, Body Horror, Captivity, Compromise, Drug Use, Food Issues, Laboratories, Medical Examination, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Other, Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Sacrifice, Touch-Starved, Venom Symbiote (Marvel) Eats People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearfisc/pseuds/Nearfisc
Summary: A nibble here, a nibble there- the gradual symbiosis of Eddie Brock and the Venom Symbiote, as accomplished in a sophisticated, methodical, purely scientific approach involving progressive innoculation.Or, "The Author Tries To Come To Terms With A Medical Vore Fetish."Rating may change.
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very short chapters, posted as they're written, jotted down on my phone- this is purely self-serving dark fantasy for a particular scene I can't get out of my head. Please leave any and all requests or suggestions, I don't intend to have any named characters other than Eddie and Venom.

"If you cooperate, you'll both get to eat."

The faint signal interference gave the voice over the intercom a distant, mechanical nature as it explained today's rules.

Eddie tried to internalize the instructions. His focus was complete. He succeeded because he had no other choice. The alternative was insanity. That way lies madness. He did not think about his fellow prisoner, or wonder if it understood the concept of teamwork.

He thought about himself, and his own hunger, and that he would do anything, anything to appease the voices that crackled to life above him, if it meant he might one day be alone under an open sky again in his pathetic life.

He did not think about the other prisoner.

But he knew.

He knew it was as hungry as he was. Hungrier.

Eddie knew because it told him.

Day in and day out. It whispered while he slept. The things it spoke, incessant demands and descriptive threats, they were sincere enough.

Eddie also knew because he had seen.

\---

In the beginning, there had been no words. The black mass hadn't seemed to gain the power of speech until the third host.

 **"DEATH,"** it said, as the human it had briefly inhabited fell to the floor and the rippling, vague shadow of a form phased back out.

 **"DEATH."** It had sounded...confused.

 **"DYING?"** It was trying to explain but had not the means necessary.

When the crumpled mass of human sacrifice had stopped twitching, the monster had been as obviously disappointed as the scientists were.

It was frustrated.

And it was growing.

By the sixth host, it was able to take a shape that was decidedly more human. A simulacrum of one, at least, a hulking beast that would manifest only as many grasping limbs as it needed to pick up the lifeless bodies of Eddie's predecessors and hold them to its gaping maw.

With form, it had also gained eloquence.

 **"THIS ONE DIES, TOO,"** it had said.

**"GIVE ME THAT ONE."**

That was the day Eddie learned his purpose. Why he was there, close, but separate; why his cold, clinical living quarters bordered those of the writhing nightmare that was his neighbor, why his experimenting, enterprising captors wanted them to see each other through the transparent walls that he prayed hour by hour would hold strong.

"We'd like to try something new with that subject. Are you willing to wait, Venom?"

 **"FOR WHAT?"** It growled, one baleful eye surveying the human on the other side of the glass. The one with his back pressed against the far wall, quaking in hot fear as he listened to the two monsters calmly bargaining over his life.

"The gradual exposure we attempted with the others has been promising. Higher initial survival rates were noted for your living shipmates when their potential hosts were allowed a longer acclimation period."

The alien kept a silence that could be mistaken for stupidity, such was its lack of response. Eddie couldn't breathe.

**"WHEN?"**

"We have two other candidates that we're preparing for you with a more direct technique in mind- will you give them a try first?"

The gaze of the abyss blinked away from Eddie, and the spell was broken.

 **"YES,"** the shadow agreed, bored and impatient. **"BRING THEM TO ME."**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venom's POV. I intend for most chapters to be Eddie but how else can the obsession seed be planted?

Food brought to him. Demands met. A cooperative, helpful benefactor.

This form of existence was strange for Venom.

And yet, it was also flattering. Others, more aggressive or correct Klyntar, may have exacted their revenge on those beings that dared try to keep them captive. Perhaps his fellow shipmates were already breaking out or dying in the attempt, disgusted at their imprisonment.

For Venom, there was certainly almost an aspect of guilt for becoming so quickly docile. The first weeks had been particularly shameful. He had been weak, pathetic, it was true; unable to keep the hosts alive or achieve even rudimentary symbiosis, clumsily discovering what the sensation of host death felt like for the species that inhabited this planet.

This was not how things normally went. In the mad, desperate clawing of arrival on a new planet there were two choices: quickly find a controllable host, or quickly die in the pursuit of one.

This- _arrangement_ , this languid captivity, it was incredible in it's strangeness, and yet Venom found himself almost enjoying the near-worship he was experiencing.

He was safe. He was fed. The beings that oversaw his every need seemed, once communication was established, to genuinely desire the same thing he did: successful host symbiosis.

Maybe the beings that tended and provided for him were a different species than the ones that he was given, but Venom didn't think so. Nor did the Klyntar particularly care to deconstruct the implications of the species if they _were_ feeding him an abundant feast of their own brothers and sisters.

It would be strange compared to most societies visited by his kind, yes; but if anything it would just make humans more kin and understandable as a fellow species that did not tend to tolerate the weakness of the individual.

For all Venom knew, the offerings weren't the weak ones at all- they very well could be the strongest, sacrifices intended to be rewarded for their strength by becoming even stronger when paired with the obviously superior Klyntar.

Venom decided that he did not know and he did not care. If they were trying to use him for some purpose, it aligned with his own interests for now, and he could do whatever he wanted once their mutual goal had been reached.

Symbiosis. Survival.

Decadence? Perhaps. Venom has progressed quickly beyond the desperate, struggling introduction, and now that his form had stabilized he found himself experiencing a shifting cocktail of frustration, enjoyment, and boredom.

Frustration, because even the short-term burnout style of bonds, the kind that could be used temporarily to jump fom host to host, wasn't working. He was presented them one at a time, when what he needed was the advantage of inhabiting; devouring; finding anew.

The enjoyment was easy. Once he could relax, once he allowed himself to let the offerings come. Even a failed bond meant a feast, and he was learning with each aborted fusion.

Some of the minds had granted him enough insight to grasp form and speech, and this was pleasing to Venom. He had always been curious, inquiring, and most species lacked anywhere near the sapience he saw this far in humanity. Piloting the weak-willed chattel wasn't _fun_ , it was just a means to an end.

Which brought the boredom.

Venom knew what he wanted. He yearned for the completion and freedom and true bond would offer. To learn, to experience, to ascend. To see more than the inside of a laboratory.

But he knew it was safe. Climate-controlled, at least.

And not without entertainment. 

From his chamber, he could see into connected living quarters with their own individual humans. There were no cracks or seams through which he could intrude, that he had found; he supposed they had separate climate systems as well, and he saw that their needs were tended as thoroughly as his own.

Venom was confused, at first, until he noticed the subjects pushed in for him to attempt a bond with correlated with the chambers one by one becoming empty. 

Once he learned more about the human body, he started to observe.

Look, that one has been fed; see, this one spends hours asleep in the bed; the one at the end seems aware of nothing at all, and when Venom paid more attention to it, the humans running this whole experiment must have interpreted the interest as preference, because that was the next subject to enter Venom's chamber.

That bond failed as well, and in even less time. What a strange place its mind has been, but its flesh tasted fine.

After six, Venom was impatient. 

There was one human that seemed- different. More aware perhaps. From his forays into the minds of the previous hosts, Venom got the sense that they existed with almost complete absence of acknowledgement that Venom has been waiting for them at all.

They had memories, flashes of insight into the world outside, but utter surprisal at his interjection into their lives at the time of the attempted bonding. Most of them also seemed to exist in their own little worlds, behind the glass.

Not the one that stared while Venom ate.

It wasn't always staring. Each chamber had a half-wall they could go behind, presumably, from the context clues of the humans he'd been inside, for hygiene or water or to wash themselves.

Most of them slept in their beds, or absently milled about. 

But this one stared from every position. Afraid to turn its back to the glass that separated them. Wrapped in its blanket, huddled into a corner, watching.

Awareness was good. Perhaps it lacked the docile stupidity of the humans he'd already eaten. Perhaps mental fortitude would make a good host.

Or at least a less boring candidate.

 **"GIVE ME THAT ONE,"** he said, lazily, in the frustrated haze of another's failure.

When the voice offered and alternative, Venom was mildly surprised. Every other request had been granted, what was different now?

His curiosity was only heightened, but he had all the time in the world, and the object of his curiosity was still firmly on the menu. 

Venom could wait.


End file.
